


Darcy Lewis is Important

by runwiththewind



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-07-26 22:57:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7593640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runwiththewind/pseuds/runwiththewind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darcy Lewis grew up in a world where having more than five soul marks was unusual, platonic or otherwise. She has fifteen. It's not until she's in her twenties that she finally meets her first soulmate. Little does she know that just because no one has said her words before then, it doesn't mean she hasn't said theirs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. How Darcy Met Natasha (Darcy's POV)

When she was a toddler, Darcy Lewis was thrust into the hands of foster care after an accident that took away her parents. By the time she was four, she had already been in seven different homes and was met with similar reactions. No one really wanted her. She was ignored and mistreated, left alone and yet constantly being yelled at. Darcy knew it was because she was different; she heard all of the adults and the other kids talk about her soul marks. About how she was a mistake, how no one could love something like her. Having five was considered unusual, and having more than ten was basically unheard of. And with her luck thus far, of course Darcy would be stuck with fifteen.

The seventh foster home was one that left her with nightmares for years to come. They talked about her as if she was wasn't human. They told her daily how she would never find love, no matter what the sentences on her body said. Her "daddy" was cruel, he left her with bruises that went deeper than just the skin. She had never felt so alone. Every night she traced the different sets of handwriting that covered her body, wishing with everything in her that the owners of the words would accept her. 

After months of being used as a personal punching bag by the people who were supposed to care for her, Darcy was both relieved and terrified when the nice lady with puffy hair from the social service center picked her up from school. It had been a week since her teacher noticed and questioned her about the dark purple mark on her neck. The puffy haired lady took her back to the old brick building that promised homes for all and told her she was going to a new family, one that would treat her right. Darcy didn't say anything, even at her young age she knew the odds of finding people who treated her like an actual human were slim. She just hoped that home number eight would be nicer than the others.

Darcy was sitting in the lobby, eating a granola bar and waiting to meet her new family when she heard a noise come from a closed off hallway. Knowing she wouldn't be missed and being the curious person she was, she decided to investigate. Leaving her backpack in her seat, she left the lobby and went off towards the sound. As she walked down the hall, she saw movement behind a partially shut door. Carefully, she pushed the door open before stepping in. She was met with the hard stare of bright green eyes. A girl who couldn't have been older than 14 was sitting on the floor. She was badly bruised and covered in blood, a knife in her hand. Caught up in the deep forests of her eyes, Darcy was stunned into a brief lapse of silence before she mustered up the courage to speak. 

"You're really pretty," Darcy said. The girl's eyes widened, just a fraction, before softening. She didn't say anything back to her, but Darcy was unfazed and sat down across from her. The girl nodded then, a smile tugging on her lips, and lowered the knife. She looked as if she didn't have much time to waste, and Darcy could tell she couldn't stay put for long. The girl remained silent and Darcy sat and watched as she began stitching up the deep gash in her arm before wrapping it in bandaging. The girl finished quickly and glanced towards an abnormally quiet Darcy. The green eyed girl got herself up and started packing a backpack. Within minutes, the girl was ready to leave. Darcy stood up then and continued to watch the girl move from the door. Grabbing the bag and throwing the bloody wrappings into a waste bin, the girl glanced again at the dark haired child before opening the window and beginning to climb out.

"Wait!" Darcy squealed. She ran to the pretty girl and hugged her while she whispered, "I have bruises like yours too, it's okay." Darcy let go just as fast as she latched on and ran back to the lobby, missing the way the girl's face hardened, hands clenched into fists, and how there was a deep snarl that was let loose at Darcy's words.

Darcy got back to the lobby and pushed her backpack off to the side before sitting in the hard plastic chair. She sat perfectly still while she waited for the nice puffy haired lady to take her to her new family, the entire time thinking dreamily about the girl with pretty red hair and bright green eyes.


	2. How Darcy Met Natasha (Natasha's POV)

Natasha Romanov was a cold blooded killer. It's what the Red Room wanted, and in many aspects they got. They used her soul marks against her, testing her loyalty and making her question everything she ever knew. She was 19 when they sent her on her first assignment in the United States, but the serum left her looking like a young teen which is exactly what they needed for this particular target. They capitalized on her ability to look so young but be so deadly. She was given her target and six hours to complete the job before she was to return home. The Red Room sent her out without any worry of anything going wrong, they had programmed her to be nothing other than obedient.

The job had gone as expected, the target had been eliminated rather quickly and she had sustained only scratches compared to what she was used to. Natasha knew she had to stitch her arm up and rest. She broke into the closest building that was partially under construction. She was undetected and hidden for the first time in years. Letting out a sigh, she quickly checked herself for other injuries. The bruises that covered her would heal in a matter of hours. She was about to begin cleaning the blood off of herself when she heard footsteps coming down the hall. They were light, but there nonetheless. Natasha grabbed the knife from her boot and went low into a ready position. She waited as the footsteps grew closer, tensing up and ready to attack. She almost lost her grip on the knife when a beautiful dark haired child walked into the room. Natasha held fast, her instincts telling her to let the child go but her training was yelling at her to not leave witnesses, regardless of age. The different scenarios raced through her head and she was about to make a decision when the girl spoke.

"You're really pretty," the child said. Natasha was stunned--she had those words scrawled across her ribs. The Red Room couldn't have sent this child to follow her, the girl showed no signs of training and they didn't know where she was anyway. Natasha relaxed then, the child wasn't a threat. She was one of hers.

She wanted to say something, anything, but she knew that the innocent girl didn't need her. She was too young to understand and Natasha certainly wasn't going to corrupt her. The Red Room wouldn't allow the child to live if they ever found out anyway. So Natasha kept her mouth shut.

She watched as the girl sat across from her, never showing fear and smiling sweetly all the while. Natasha lowered her knife and fought hard at the smile tugging at her lips. She didn't have much time, her flight back to Russia was in less than an hour but she needed to get the cut on her arm closed and the blood off of her quickly. Deciding she didn't have much of a choice, she started stitching herself up there. She stole glances at the little girl while she worked, and she could already feel the protectiveness wash over her. Natasha was done in under a minute, wrapped and everything. She finished getting the blood off of her body and changed her shirt swiftly before throwing the blood soaked wrappings and bandages away. She was all packed and ready to go, and she opened the window to make her escape when she heard a shuffle of feet.

"Wait!" the girl squealed. The child crashed into her, clinging to her lower body tightly. Warmth flooded through her and Natasha felt love for the first time since the Red Room had made her into a monster.

"I have bruises like yours too, it's okay," was whispered to her and all too quickly the child let go of her legs and was out the door. Natasha felt the blood in her run cold, her face hardened instantly at the hushed words, her fingers dug into her palms drawing blood to the surface, and she snarled. No child should have bruises like hers. The wave of protectiveness crashed over her and she decided she had time for a few errands.

It took her less than two minutes to find out the dark haired childs' name. It took nine to travel to the last home the girl had been placed. It took exactly 4.76 seconds to take out those who had hurt her young soulmate.

With everything done, Natasha flew back to the Red Room with no other conflicts. The entire flight she thought about the girl--Darcy. It had been a long time since Natasha felt anything other than cold. But she knew that no matter what the Red Room did to her, no matter how many targets she had to take out or torture she had to endure, nothing could break her as long as her soulmates were safe.


	3. How Darcy Met Clint (Darcy's POV)

When Darcy was six years old, her foster family at the time took her and the others staying with them to the circus. It probably wasn't the greatest of plans, there were nine children to the two adults. It was fairly easy to slip away for a moment or two. Being forgotten was the one thing Darcy excelled in, and she used it to her advantage here. 

Throughout the entire show, she was captivated by the man who shot arrows like it was an art. She couldn't stop watching him, even when her foster mother told her that "bows are for boys, not little girls like you". As her family got up to get food, Darcy wandered away from them. She followed the brightly lit signs that said things like "World's Sharpest Shooter" and "The Great Hawkeye". When she got to the end of the signs, she was met with a sad looking boy. He was maybe 16 with deep blue eyes that seemed lost in the neon lights above. Darcy had met a girl with beautiful eyes like his before and she couldn't resist trying to make the boy smile. 

"I like your bow," she boldly told him. His eyes snapped up to meet her and before he could say anything she continued talking. "Don't tell the others, but you're my favorite," she said. She was met with a blinding smile, one that made her feel all soft inside. Darcy giggled and walked closer to the boy. 

"Everyone keeps telling me that bows like yours are for boys, but I think I could do it," Darcy said, "Can you teach me?" He nodded at her, the smile on his face growing bigger with each word she said. She reached for his hand and he took it, pulling her to the shooting range just across from where his act was stationed. Grabbing a smaller bow, he carefully ducked down and showed her how to pull the string back, how she could angle it one way and get a curve of the arrow, how to hit the middle of the target every time. He never spoke aloud to her, choosing instead to communicate with actions, but Darcy was okay with that. Most people didn't talk to her, and at least this boy was still nice to her even with her rambling about little things. 

Darcy was having the time of her life when the boy suddenly went stiff besides her. She panicked, thinking back to what she had said. She couldn't remember what she was talking about and she stuttered an apology for being rude and annoying. The boy looked like he wanted to scowl at that but he masked his face and shook his head instead. He knelt down beside her and looked as if he was going to say something before he turned and went back to teaching her how to shoot. That shining smile was back on his face before she knew it. 

After almost a half hour, Darcy realized her family would be looking for her soon. She didn't want to get in trouble again, so she thanked the nice arrow boy and told him goodbye before running off to the food line where the others were.

The rest of the day, Darcy thought about the circus boy and how his eyes reminded her of the sky. Even though she got punished for wandering, she couldn't help but smile that night, knowing that she could shoot a bow and arrow and never miss (even though she already missed the one who taught her). 

She fell asleep with a fresh new bruise on her arm but with a warmth in her body. That night she dreamed of arrows floating in the bright sky, trees greener than one could imagine and two figures holding her hands tightly as they walked towards a group of smiling faces.

When she woke up the next day, her foster parents were acting strange. They told her that they were sorry and gave her a new bow with a note attached. "Never stop being you, little one" was all that it said, but Darcy couldn't help but smile and laugh. Darcy folded the note carefully and put it and her new bow in her box of Important Things next to her first teddy bear and a picture of her parents. 

Within the next week Darcy was placed into a different home, one with parents who were nothing but nice to her. They never made fun of her marks and for the first time Darcy felt hope. With her brand new bow and a world of possibilities, she was ready to take on the world.


	4. How Darcy Met Clint (Clint's POV)

The circus was supposed to be temporary. The plan was to make a bit of money and build a new life together. It would have worked too if Barney hadn't been such an ass. And okay, he got that it was probably annoying to care for a younger sibling, but they had been through so much together. Clint Barton's life wasn't supposed to revolve around the circus. At least the traveling was perfect for his side business and he always had an alibi. He couldn't exactly complain. If only he didn't feel so alone. 

It had been three months since Barney left. Today was Clint's birthday and he hadn't heard a nice thing from anyone. He was stuck putting on a show for a shit ton of random people who had too much money to spend. He was pissed off. He was alone. He was miserable. 

His act went without a glitch; the bow in his hand let him create art and for a brief moment he was satisfied. That moment of satisfaction was soon replaced with sadness when he was finished and went towards his empty changing room. Clint knew his brother wasn't going to come, but a part of him couldn't help but hope. He sat moping in front of his act station, reminiscing on the past and dreaming of a different future. He was lost in a memory when his thoughts were interrupted by a small but bold voice. 

"I like your bow," a girl, no more than six, told him. She had a huge grin on her face and she had a determined look in her eyes. It took Clint a second to process what she said, but by the time he was ready to thank her, she had already continued talking. 

"Don't tell anyone, but you're my favorite," she told him. Clint was stunned, those words sounded extremely familiar. His face lit up then as recognition hit him. Those were his words. He had them written delicately around his left bicep. Clint's smile only grew when the child giggled and stepped closer to him. Maybe his birthday wouldn't be so terrible after all.

"Everyone keeps telling me that bows like yours are for boys, but I think I could do it," she said, "Can you teach me?" Clint nodded, for whatever reason he couldn't seem to find the right words so instead he grabbed her outstretched hand and led her to the range. He picked up the smallest bow he had and crouched low to show her how to hold it. Clint taught her how to pull the string--how to go with the curve and not away from it. She was hitting bullseye's in no time and he was incredibly grateful to have found someone to share his passion with. 

Clint taught her in silence, scared he'd fuck it up if he said something. She was so young, she didn't need his baggage right now. Instead he spoke to her through actions. With every arrow let loose and string notched back, Clint let himself go in the simplicity of things. He forgot about his upcoming target, his piece of shit brother, his forgotten birthday. Clint was complete for what seemed like the first time.

The girl was rambling the entire time he was showing her to shoot. She talked about everything from green forests to scary monsters, never seeming to need to breathe as she switched the topics. Clint was so relaxed he almost didn't notice the dark blue and purple bruise that was wrapped around her wrist. It was peeking out of her long sleeve, covered with bracelets, but it was there nonetheless. 

Clint stiffened, anger coursing through his body, eyes glazed over in unseeing rage. He knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of things like that. She was not going to end up like him, he promised himself that. 

The girl startled, she started stuttering out an apology about how she didn't mean to be annoying. It took everything in him not to scowl at that. He bent down close to her, releasing the tension out of his body and blinking away the glaze. Clint was going to tell her that she would never have to apologize again, she wouldn't need to fear anything, she would be okay. They would be okay. But he knew that it wasn't true. He wasn't stable enough to help her, he couldn't care for her, not like she needed. So instead he plastered on a smile and went back to teaching her the tricks of the bow. When she smiled back at him, Clint felt the world stop for a moment and he decided to fix what he could and plan for what he couldn't. 

All too quickly the child was packing up and telling him goodbye. Her smile was the most beautiful thing he had seen and she thanked him for everything. Clint watched as she quickly ran to one of the food lines before getting lost in the crowd. Only when he couldn't see her did he let his smile turn into something murderous.

After the shows were over and everything put away, Clint took off for the night. He picked up a brand new bow, hand carved and the perfect size for small hands. He grabbed some dull arrows and scrawled out a note before he was on his way.

It didn't take long to find out his soulmate's name. It took even less time to find the address she was at. It was late, but the lights were still on inside. Pulling his hood down lower, he was in an open window within no time. 

Ten minutes and only one broken finger later (it wasn't his, don't worry), Clint walked away satisfied. Social Services was an easy hack, and soon his soulmate would be placed into a new home--one he had picked out. With that in mind, Clint continued making his way down the street and to his official target, smirking the entire time. Life was sucky, but at least he had done one thing right.


	5. How Darcy Met Bruce (Darcy's POV)

Darcy was nine when she was adopted. The family she had been with for close to three years fell in love with her bubbly personality. They never once made her feel misplaced or like a burden. Her new mom would braid her hair and her new dad told her stories about great warriors who had just as many soul marks as her. 

Her parents could only do so much for her though, no matter what they did they couldn't stop the night terrors. They couldn't rid her body of the scars from the past beatings. They tried so hard to get her to talk about what was done to her--they wanted to rid her of everything bad she had endured. They couldn't, but that was okay.

Darcy's parents made her feel like she was the best thing that happened to them. Between the hugs and kisses, gifts and adventures, laughs and happy tears Darcy felt important. When they found out she was interested in engineering, archery, politics, and a large range of sciences they bought her piles and piles of books to entertain her. She spent hours reading and was ecstatic when her parents praised her for it. 

They took her to parks and let her wander and explore. She found tree hideouts and small caves and she developed a love for the sun. Every night, weather permitting, she would watch the sunset. Her favorite place was on the marina docks just two houses down from her home. The crews that came by all knew her name and they brought her things from the sea. Her parents would sit in the sand and read while she stared dreamily at the glistening sky.

Tuesday's were her favorite. For whatever reason the sun seemed to shine a little brighter that day. With that being said, tonight was going to be wonderful. Darcy grabbed her sketch book and raced the docks, yelling out hello's to all she passed. 

As she got closer, she realized that there was a person in her usual spot. She didn't know the man, he wasn't a local, but he had soft brown eyes that made her melt when he glanced towards her. She thought he looked young enough, but he was definitely in college, maybe even out of it. Never being one to be put off by age differences (her mom taught her that every person deserves a friend, no matter what age they are), she walked to him. 

As Darcy neared where he was, she saw that he was reading a book with his feet touching the water. He seemed lost in his head, eyes never truly seeing the words in front of him. He looked as if he needed someone to pull him out of himself, and that's exactly what Darcy did. She sat right next to him, totally disregarding the idea of personal space and let her legs hang with his over the water. 

"Sometimes I watch the sun turn everything to gold and it takes my breath away," she told him. His head quickly turned towards her and she gave him her brightest smile. He seemed confused, almost as if he was struggling to find words to respond with. Darcy knew she could be overwhelming sometimes so instead of forcing a conversation, she pulled out her sketchbook. Flipping to a new page, she began to sketch the scene in front of her. 

Lines turned into waves and circles became beams of light. The silence between the two wanderers was one of comfort, neither feeling the need to break it. Darcy could feel the man watching her but it wasn't in a weird way. He seemed generally interested as to what she could do. As she continued sketching, she started talking. 

She told him how she loved learning new things and that even though she was only nine she was already in fourth grade. She talked about how the sun made her feel alive and how her parents took her adventuring every weekend they weren't working. She rambled about the open sea and how she was just officially adopted. She talked and talked and before she knew it the sun was beginning to touch the water. 

Putting her sketchbook away, she rolled up her sleeves, leaned forward, and put her hands in the water to wash off the excess graphite. As she turned away to grab a towel, she missed the way the man's eyes flashed green. 

Darcy heard her parents calling for her and she quickly packed up her things, scrambling to explain she was late for dinner. She thrust the sketch she had just finished into his hands and her cheeks flushed pink when he gave her a warm smile, his swirling chocolate eyes soft and comforting. She tore her gaze away and took off down the dock, throwing a wave over her shoulder and giggling all the way to her parents. 

Darcy had chocolate ice cream that night and all she could think about was the soft brown eyes of a ruffled looking man. Over the course of the next week she added three different sets of colors to her typically colorless sunsets. Browns and greens and blues now seeped into her drawings; Darcy couldn't believe she had gone so long without them before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Darcy was four when she met Natasha, six when she met Clint, and nine when she meets Bruce. She's abnormally smart so her vocabulary is a little higher than usual, so I get if there was any confusion. Side Note: the parents who end up adopting her are the people that Clint picked out in the last chapter. As of now all relationships are platonic, but don't forget that she doesn't even know she's met a soulmate (also she's not even a teenager yet so ...) but who knows what will happen.


	6. How Darcy Met Bruce (Bruce's POV)

Everything was falling apart. Lives had been lost and trusts were broken. A city had been destroyed and the guilt of it was agonizing. Not only was Bruce Banner a wanted man, he was a monster. It was something he could barely control. He couldn't live with himself, but he couldn't be used as a guinea pig again so he did what came eerily natural. He ran. He grabbed what little he needed and went east. It was easy to blend in, he was just ruffled looking and young enough to pass as a new sailor. The constant moving from port to port left him with enough time to reign in his anger. He knew he could never have a normal life, but he hoped that he could at least do some good.

Bruce had taken to watching the sun set at each port he stayed at. Partially to do with the words that curved along his hip, but mostly because he felt serenity as the beams of light twisted and turned into beauty. He saw how the ocean could be violent but when the light hit the bubbling waters the waves of darkness burst into millions of shades and colors. If something so powerful and deadly could eventually turn into something that artists dream to paint right, maybe he could become something of light too.

He was just supposed to be passing through the small little town that sat on a bay of Rhode Island. But the clerk at the store gave him one look and sent him to the docks, claiming that a traveler like him looked like he needed actual food and a place to rest. So there he was, full for the first time in months and cautiously happy to have a place to stay--one with an actual mattress. With the sun moving slowly down, Bruce let himself drag out an old copy of _Gone With the Wind_ and made his way to the end of the dock.

As he sat down and touched the soles of his feet to the water, he couldn't help but feel overwhelmed with emotions. His eyes went unseeing as he glanced around the dock, completely missing the young girl making her way towards him. His thoughts drifted to something darker, he was beginning to see blood and could almost hear screams when a soft voice coaxed him out of his downward spiral.

"Sometimes I watch the sun turn everything to gold and it takes my breath away," a girl said. Bruce lifted his head quickly and turned towards the noise. He had to physically force himself not to flinch when he realized how close she was sitting next to him. His face must have shown he was confused because she continued on as if she had never said anything, as if they sat next to each other all the time.

It wasn't until she started talking again that he was struck with the reality of her words. His words. The soft words that wrapped around his hip that made him feel stable even when everything was falling apart. Jesus, she was so young. He could feel his hands shaking, he was terrified of hurting her. Before he could let himself do something stupid, he forced all of his focus on to her.

She was drawing the sunset in a way that made his heart clench. Her delicate fingers drew lines so sure and so powerful he couldn't help but relax as he watched her create a masterpiece. How someone who was that young be so talented went beyond him. She told him stories of her parents and her adventures. She rambled about the sun and the ocean and music. Her words seeped into his tense body and slowly he relaxed. He let himself get lost in her beautiful drawings and soft spoken words.   
Before he knew it, the sun was touching the water and the girl was packing up to leave. As she rolled up her sleeves he noticed small scars that ran along her arms and the Other Guy stirred inside him.

_Someone hurt small soulmate. Hulk CRUSH those who hurt lil one._ Bruce's eyes flashed green but he he knew that neither himself or the Other Guy would never hurt the girl beside them.

He knew what they were--the scars on her arms. Bruce could even tell they weren't recent. But he also knew that it took years for scars to go away, if they ever went away. His body was marked like hers from the beatings he got as a child, and only after the release of the Other Guy did he wake up to a scarless body.

He slowed his breathing and tried not to think about those who may have hurt the child next to him. He let go of the tension he held and focused back in on the girl.

She was done packing and stood up to leave, muttering something about being late for dinner. She turned to go before quickly turning back around and thrusting a piece of paper into his hands. He looked down at it and his eyes widened at the finished sketch she had just done. A smile made his way to his lips and her cheeks flushed pink before she tore her bright blue eyes away from him, taking off down the docks giggling and waving a hand behind her shoulder. Bruce had never felt so complete as he did in that moment.

Later, weeks after he left that small town and an incident that left him fleeing to India, Bruce pulled out the sketch. It was the only thing he let himself get attached too; the Other Guy was always careful to never tear or wreck it whenever he came out. It was then that he noticed a small outline of a signature hidden in the curve of a wave. _Darcy Lewis_. He smiled. Darcy Lewis. The Other Guy let out a sigh of satisfaction and it was the first time they both agreed on something. She would be protected at all costs, even if that protection was from Bruce himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've written this chapter at least a dozen times but I'm still not sure if I captured Bruce's nature right. Also, I didn't specify Bruce's age but he's around 25 in my head. Sorry if I skewed anyone's original views, writing is tough.


	7. How Darcy Met Bucky (Darcy's POV)

Darcy had a habit of being in places she wasn't necessarily supposed to be. What can she say? Being twelve was a tough age, who cares if she likes to explore further than she probably should. It hadn't ever been a problem before, the town she lived in was small enough that her parents weren't strict in her wandering. How were they supposed to know she would go to the abandoned part of town? 

She was in love with the empty buildings and half finished mosaics. Every Sunday she would pack a bag full of fresh apples and granola and shove her notebook and random books in with them. The morning light would make dazzling designs on the caved in windows and she would sit for hours drawing the twists and turns of shadows.

It wasn't unusual to run into travelers on her way to the old city hall building. She'd smile as they passed her, chatting with those she knew and waving at those she didn't. After years of being treated like a mistake, she knew how it felt when a smile was tossed her way. She went out of her normal routine to hand out the extra apples and give reassuring hugs to those that needed them.

Darcy had just passed out the last of her apples when she quite literally ran into someone. She fell to the ground and glanced up, planning to apologize when her eyes locked on his. Swirling greys flecked with pale blue and bits of green, words seemed to be just out of her reach. He smiled at her and reached down to help her up. As she was being helped up, a fuzzy quote came to mind. 

"So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing," she whispered. His movements stilled and she panicked before stuttering out an explanation. 

"It's a quote, T. S. Eliot I think. I'm not actually sure. Your eyes--they remind me of it--I'm sorry," she stammered out. His eyes lightened as she brushed the nonexistent dirt off of her bag. She smiled when she looked up, never one to be embarrassed so easily, and set her shoulders back. 

"Would you like an apple? I only have one left, but I'm willing to split it if you want," she told him. He nodded and grabbed the apple out of Darcy's hand, carefully slicing it in half. They walked further down the street before sitting on a rusted old bench. She pulled out her sketchbook and drew the shadows that the trees made before them, both casually relaxed and embracing the sounds of nature. 

Only after she was done drawing did she say something. Darcy showed him several of her different sketches and explained where she did them. She got so into explaining everything that she lost track of time, only truly stopping when her watch went off signaling it was time to leave. Packing up her things and giving the guy her bag of granola, she told him how she was going to see a movie but that she had a lovely time talking with him. Picking up the last of her things, she waved one last time before starting the walk back to town. 

Darcy's mind kept wandering back to the swirls of grey she had just spent the past two hours with. Smiling to herself, she started humming a random tune and laughed when a rabbit hopped in front of her. Lost in her own world, she had no idea she was being followed. 

She was almost to the edge of town when she heard a snap of a branch, turning to look at what made the noise, she was caught off guard when a hand wrapped around her throat. Her vision blurred and black started to overcome her--but not before she heard the sound of flesh meeting metal. Air rushed into her lungs but her head felt so floaty, she lost her balance. Before she could hit the ground she was caught by strong hands. She swore she saw swirls of grey before blacking out.

Darcy woke up in her bed covered with blankets and a glass of lemonade next to her. She thought it must have been a dream and that she was probably just sick. She got up tenderly and rubbed her head. Darcy was prone to migraines so it wasn't unusual to be this disoriented, she just took the aspirin that was on her bedside table and drank some of the lemonade. Deciding she was in no shape to go out, she laid back down and drifted back to sleep. Letting out a sigh, she fell deeply as she dreamt of charcoal grey, deep ocean blue, bright leaf green, and soft chocolate brown spinning effortlessly together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Darcy is twelve in this, I have no idea how old Bucky is. The whole "sometimes alive but mostly kept frozen" thing messes up my age idea of him but he's still pretty young, maybe 24? Also, I know Bucky and the Winter Solider are basically two completely different people, but I think that in this instance they both work together and have an understanding or something.


	8. How Darcy Met Bucky (Bucky's POV)

It wasn't supposed to happen like that. He wasn't supposed to let his guard down. James Buchanan Barnes is better than that. Or, he was. He hardly knows who he is. His name is Bucky. Isn't it? Why can't he remember? His thoughts got cut off as a sharp pain ripped through his head. They zapped him three times before they programmed a new mission.

_Mission Alert (externally programmed): take out target, leave no witnesses._

_Mission Accepted_.

Bucky is not Hydra. He swears he's not. Even The Winter Solider hates being a puppet. They miss Stevie. Stevie would know what to do. He could fight this better than Bucky. They should just leave. Leave and kill those who get in their way. What a thought.

Three hours and seven reprogrammings later, Bucky and the Winter Solider were dropped off in Rhode Island with 56 hours to take out the target. They were currently trying to maintain a low profile and were in the process of skirting around an intercepting town when they saw a girl who reminded them so much of Steve that memories rushed to them. Graphite covered hands, the bluest of eyes, caring souls. Bucky got so lost in his memories and conflicting thoughts he didn't even notice the girl walking towards him. That is, until she ran right into him.

Sprawled out on the ground with dark curls, she was maybe twelve or so, surrounded by a dropped bag and scattered papers. Whatever internal struggle Bucky was having quickly went in the back of his priorities, and he bent down to help the girl up. When she smiled at him, a sense of overwhelming acceptance washed over him. A fuzzy memory of Steve came to mind and he smiled. She reminded him of a better time, of happiness and love. It was as if he had known her his whole life.

Her hand was gripped in his and as he pulled her to her feet she let out a rushed and whispered sentence that caused his body to quite literally stop moving.

"So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing," she had said. Bucky couldn't move. His brain was short circuiting because it just wasn't possible. He had those exact words. They were written nearly across his right shoulder blade. But no. She couldn't be his--she was too innocent and young and small. And yet there was no way she wasn't his. Those bright blue eyes shined like a fallen star and she fumbled with her words and he realized he had stopped moving.

"It's a quote, T. S. Eliot I think. I'm not actually sure. Your eyes--they remind me of it--I'm sorry," she stammered out. Bucky could feel the smile forming on his face and his eyes lightened. He held in a chuckle as he watched her brush nonexistent dirt off of her bag. The Universe had a twisted sense of direction but he couldn't exactly complain when his body felt warmth and his mind finally cleared itself.

"Would you like an apple? I only have one left, but I'm willing to split it if you want," she asked him. Bucky was incapable of words so he simply nodded, taking out the knife in his pocket and gracefully slicing the apple in two.

They walked down the road munching on their share of slices when they came across an old bench. Sitting down, he watched as she brought out her sketchbook and starting drawing. Halfway through her first sketch of the broken trees shadows he decided that nothing was as perfect as she was. When she she started showing him past works and telling him where she drew them and why she was so connected to the lines and colors, both the Winter Solider and Bucky made a new mission.

_Mission Alert (internally programmed): Don't let anyone take her away. Protect her at all costs._

_Mission Accepted._

Satisfied with the new mission, Bucky felt relief flood his mind.

Several hours, pictures, and a bag of granola later Bucky watched as the girl started walking away. She had explained that she had plans, but she expressed how much of a great time she'd had. Bucky had prided himself in that, he was glad she had a nice time (even if he couldn't think of anything to say to her).

She was less than a 100 meters from him when he noticed movement coming from her left. Someone was clearly following her, and she had no idea. Snapping into Solider mode, Bucky quickly took off.

Weaving through trees and using the shadow for cover, Bucky caught up easily and undetected. When he saw the asshole grab his young soulmate, Bucky felt his blood turn to ice. The echoing sound of metal colliding with flesh couldn't have been louder, and he disabled the failed kidnapper within seconds.

With a final glance at the man on the ground, he spun just in time to see the girl fall. Reactions kicked in and he picked her off of her feet. Carefully he made his way back towards town. Setting her gently on a patch of grass (hidden from view) just outside of town, it took all of four minutes to figure out who the girl was and where she lived before taking her home. Getting into the house was easy, no one was home and the back window was open. He laid her onto her bed and secured the house before he got her a glass of lemonade and aspirin. She would have a hellva headache when she woke up, but there was no bruising and her pulse was normal. He allowed himself a few minutes to watch her, convincing himself that she would be okay, that she would be protected. Pressing a kiss to her forehead, Bucky shut off the light and left.

He was halfway down the street when he realized he was smiling. He had saved his soulmate. He had protected her. He would always protect her--Darcy. Her name was Darcy. Both Bucky and the Solider grinned even more. They both took one final moment to remember those bright baby blue eyes, and then they were off to complete their mission. In the back of their minds sat Darcy Lewis. They promised themselves that not one thing would hurt her. Even when Hydra wiped him again, there was no wiping away her or the warmth she gave him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was super hard to write. I had no idea what I was doing and I got really busy so I'm very sorry if it's not good, the next one will be better--I promise.


	9. How Darcy Meets Nick (Darcy's POV)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am so incredibly sorry for not updating this sooner, to be honest I completely forgot about it. Thank you to those who have been waiting patiently! I know this chapter is short and there are a lot of unanswered questions, but the next chapter should clarify what's missing in this one. Hope this isn't too big of a cliffhanger for any of you.

Well, things could be worse. At least, that’s what Darcy thought. Sure, the ropes around her wrists were digging rather uncomfortably in her skin, but at least she knew it wouldn’t be for much longer. Or, that’s what she thought anyway. Whoever had taken her seemed to be getting their ass kicked. If she got out of this alive, her parents were going to kill her. But really, how was she supposed to know her school bus was going to get raided by some crazy super villain? Yeah, she was abnormally smart, but how smart can a 14 year old be when it comes to random psychotic attacks? 

A sudden explosion drew Darcy away from her thoughts, and she used the distraction to get the rest of the rope untied from her wrists. She started working on getting the others untied as quickly as possible, hoping for some type of miracle to get them all out of this.

She was down to the last two kids when the back door of whatever warehouse they’d been shoved in blew open. Bits of the door scattered hazardously across the floor and the other kids crouched in fear, preparing for the worst. Darcy rushed to get the last girl untied and told all of her classmates to get as far away from the door as possible and to stay together. There was no need for her to fear anything, it’s not as if she hadn’t already been through hell. So Darcy stood her ground, and placed herself directly in front of the group.

The man who walked into the warehouse had Darcy instantly mesmerized. He walked in so confidently and so sure, she knew he wasn’t a threat. Her gut told her that it was safe, so she walked up to him just as confidently as he did.

“I’m digging the whole ‘vaguely threatening but still a good person’ look you have going on, but you’re a bit late to the party,” she said. 

The man’s dark eyes seemed to light up as he smirked at her before glancing around and noticing the others. He looked her up and down one last time before hitting the button on his headset and stating their coordinates. Darcy was unfazed, immediately telling him that all but the bus driver were accounted for and that there were only minor injuries. She led him over to the group still rambling about his timing and suggesting a far less explosive entrance next time.

Before she got the chance to properly ask him questions and thank him for saving all of them, dozens of agents swarmed in and took everyone to get medically evaluated. Darcy was swept into the mess of things and she lost sight of the slightly menacing man whose dark skin and tall build had her feeling far safer and calm than what she should have been. Within the hour she was back in the arms of her parents and on her way home. Her captors had been taken care of and her classmates were safe. Why she didn’t feel complete, she didn’t know. It was only later that night, after she fell asleep, that she was able to see the dark eyes of her savior that she realized that life could be a whole lot more unfair. After all, she was always surrounded by colors in her dreams.


End file.
